


Bride of the Demon

by Archangel_dare



Category: Arrow (TV 2012)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Dubious Consent, F/M, Oral Sex, Sex, Sexual Coercion, Wedding Night, dark oliver
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-05
Updated: 2016-12-05
Packaged: 2018-09-06 15:49:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8759233
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Archangel_dare/pseuds/Archangel_dare
Summary: Nyssa felt the trap closing in on her, her chance of freedom disappearing with each second she waited for him to knock on her door. Her father had forced her to wed Al-Sahim, and now Al-Sahim was coming to consummate their marriage and begin the line of succession. How had she gone from the Heir to the Demon to the Bride of the Demon in mere moments?Nyssa took a deep breath. She would see this done; she was no coward.Missing scene from Arrow 3x22- "This Is Your Sword"





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is not a love story/happy ending. There is dual dubious consent for both parties. I'm a fan of the Nyssa/Oliver League of Assassins relationship, but I wanted to write a darker story to explore Oliver slipping further into the darkness.

Nyssa knelt down before the altar of her ancestors, trying unsuccessfully to quell the trembling of her hands as she prayed profusely to the old gods. Her heart raced so furiously she thought it would beat out of her chest. The soft flickering glimmer of the candles cast a golden hue around the beautifully decorated room and on the tears streaming down her cheeks. Her lips moved quickly in the ancient language that had brought her such comfort as a young girl: her father’s language, one long dead from the world. The irony struck her causing a bitter, humorless laugh to fall from her lips and fill the empty space. Ironic that she sought comfort in her father’s language, from her father’s gods, when her father had been the one to sentence her to such a fate.

The quiet knock seemed as loud as a gunshot to her, startling her from her prayers. Nyssa stood from the altar, barely noticing the feel of the whisper thin gold lace that covered her body. Her voice failed her, and the knock went unanswered. She heard the click of the iron door knob, and knew the moment she feared had arrived. The door closed again with a resounding click not unlike the iron bars of a jail cell. She knew it was dangerous to let the enemy see her back, but she did not have the strength to turn to face her fears just yet. She took a deep breath, relaxed her shoulders, and turned with her head held high. Her heart caught in her chest.

Standing before her, in a white robe trimmed in gold, was Oliver Queen—no, not Oliver Queen—Al-Sahim—her husband in ritual only, come to make her his wife in truth. He looked every bit a king, a conqueror come to claim his prize. Nyssa swallowed, hoping to bring moisture back to her parched mouth. She applauded herself for not trembling before him, but she would not give him the satisfaction of knowing that she was afraid of his control…and yet she did not feel afraid. But what else if not fear could cause her heart to race, her mouth to dry like the deserts of her home, and her hands to shake?

His intense, icy blue eyes seemed to devour her soul, looking for any weakness, but she refused to avert her eyes like a coward. Instead, he broke contact first. His eyes scanned her body, lingering over the exposed skin at the deep V of her robe which cut down to her belly button, revealing the most of her breasts and stomach any man had ever seen. His perusal made her blood feel like fire in her veins. Her tongue flicked over her lips, and his gaze was drawn to their fullness, and then to her mysterious eyes. Nyssa swore she saw something flicker through his eyes, but it was gone before she could examine the glimmer further.

“Disrobe.” His voice was firm and deep, leaving no question that his order would be followed. Nyssa hesitated. She could submit to him, but her pride wouldn’t allow him to have control over her body uncontested.

“Do it yourself.” She pursed her lips and raised her chin. Something flashed in his eyes again.

“Very well.” His deep baritone sent excited thrills over her nerves. Surely it was only her body’s natural response to a predator so close to her? Nyssa could pretend that she had some power in this new dynamic, but they both knew that she was at his complete mercy. He strode up to her, as confident in his skin as if he had spent his entire life being groomed to rule. Nyssa commended herself for not moving a muscle as he stalked toward her like a jungle cat. He stopped in front of her and raised his hand to her collarbone. His fingers ghosted over her skin, so faintly Nyssa wondered if she had imagined the contact. His fingers brushed against her collarbone again, then he lightly gripped both sides of her lace slip. He eased the fabric to her shoulders, cataloguing each newly revealed piece of skin. The delicate lace brushed against her heated skin soft as butterfly wings, stimulating her already sensitive nerves. The lace caught at the tips of her hardened nipples, refusing to be pulled back any further unless something unhooked it. Oliver looked into her eyes, then down at the twin peaks. His fingertips grazed against her soft skin forcing her to bite the inside of her lip against the wicked sensation.

He unlatched the caught fabric, taking every opportunity to brush against her sensitive nipples, before letting the fabric fall and pool at her hips. Oliver gently pushed the fabric passed her curves then watched as the confection fell to the floor, revealing the delectable body it once concealed. He stepped back to admire her lovely form. She had the fullness of a woman: perky breasts that would easily fill his hands, a slim waist and flat stomach from hours of training, which flared out to curved hips that would be easy purchase for his fingers, and long, toned legs that were meant to wrap around his hips as he thrust into her. He wondered at the sounds that would slip from her sweet, tantalizing lips. Would she say his name in that husky, honeyed-wine voice of hers?

Oliver tried to clear his wayward thoughts. He was determined to see consummating their marriage as a business arrangement, but his body had other intentions. Something dark within him hummed with pleasure when she challenged his command. He could see the fear in her eyes she tried so hard to keep beneath the surface, and he respected her determination not to show weakness. He couldn’t stop his hand from reaching out and cupping one of her full breasts. Her breath hitched, drawing his gaze back to her lips. His thumb stroked idly over her peaked nipple as he watched her face for any reaction. For the first time Oliver noticed the slightly smudged kohl under her eyes and the dampness sprinkled over her lashes, both of which only heightened her alluring beauty. He removed his hand from her breast and instead traced over her cheek with the back of his fingers.

“I will be gentle; I will be good to you.” His voice came out a husky whisper he had not expected. His hands went to the gold pins holding her hair in a traditional and elaborate style. He released the pins one by one and watched as her luscious hair cascaded down her back in deep waves. 

“Make me no promises, Al-Sahim. I need neither reassurances nor pretty lies. Do what you have come here to do.” Oliver’s respect for her grew even more. He raised his chin to her and nodded towards the bed. Head held high still, she stepped over the expensive cloth and strode towards the large bed that dominated most of the room. She turned and stood before him, as unabashed as a goddess. He almost smirked when he saw her hands fisted at her sides to stop from hiding her body from him. He untied the golden rope at his waist and stripped off the ceremonial robe from their wedding just an hour earlier. He picked up her gown and laid them and the hairpins on a chest near the altar. He sent a quick prayer to her gods, then turned back to face his waiting bride.

It occurred to Oliver that he should feel more disgusted at the marriage they were forced into, but looking at the brunette beauty, waiting for him like a present with the golden candle light caressing her as his own hands soon would, he could find no true cause to protest. Another woman he took in a room similar to this one flashed through his mind; if he was going to do this, he was going to have to compartmentalize his memories of Felicity for now. Oliver cursed the circumstances and walked towards the bed.

He looked into Nyssa’s eyes, searching for even the tiniest hint of protest, but Nyssa gave none. He knew she wouldn’t because of her pride, but had she even looked unsure, he would have grabbed his robe and left. He had never forced a woman before; he would not start with his wife. Oliver nodded to the bed and Nyssa turned to crawl onto the lavish silk. His eyes were immediately drawn to the mesmerizing sway of her hips: a siren’s song in their own right. She lay back against the plush mountain of pillows and watched him. Oliver climbed onto the bed after her. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, trying to regulate her breathing and descend into a meditative state. Oliver ran his fingers over her ankles, then up the smooth skin of her calves. Every muscle of her leg tensed with his touch, then relaxed with her breathing. He moved her thighs apart.

He should have let her drift off, but something, pride he rationalized, would not allow him to let her fantasize of another while he memorized every moment between them.

He lay down on his stomach, using only his forearms for balance, and took one strong lick up the slit of her core. Nyssa’s eyes flew open and she sat up startled.

“What are you doing?!” She looked down at him in shock.

“Worshiping you.” He stated nonchalantly, as if it were the most obvious of conclusions. Confusion and somewhat false indignation settled over her face. 

“That is completely unnecessary.” Nyssa didn’t understand why he would perform an act not required for consummation; wouldn’t he desire to use only the minimal amount of time needed for them to be in each other’s presence?

“I will taste you, and then I will ask if you want me to stop.” Oliver waited for her consent. Nyssa hesitated. Surely he could not be serious. What was the point of this action?

“Very well.” Nyssa huffed then looked to the side. Oliver smirked then placed her thighs on his shoulders for better access. Nyssa watched as he lowered his head and her inner muscles clenched in anticipation. Oliver ran his tongue over her folds, kissing the hood that held her pearl of nerves. He allowed his tongue to slip through her folds, but did not push further. He took another lick to coax some of her wetness into his waiting mouth.

Nyssa closed her eyes and her head fell back against the pillows. She bit her lips to prevent a groan from escaping them. Never had she experienced such a thing. Oliver licked his lips at her taste: tangy yet sweet as the exotic fruits he had tasted during their wedding feast, and now she was bared before him: a feast of delicacies meant only for him. He inhaled, memorizing her husky scent. His cock throbbed lightly and he shifted his hips to relieve some of the pressure. His lips engulfed her sensitive nub and sucked lightly, enjoying the hitch in her breath.

She couldn’t help but clench the silk sheets between her fingers. The pleasure of his tongue sent wicked thrills through her nerves, and toes furled at every pass of his expert muscle. Sweat beaded and slipped down her forehead, adding more pleasure to her already sensitized nerves. Every move she made caused the dampening silk fabric to slide across her body in an erotic dance. Oliver watched pleasure roll through her. Every twitch, every moan, every half-caught breath added on to his desire to see her unravel beneath him. Her breasts heaved and her hips lifted; whether trying to get away from his sinful tongue or pushing her sweet offering closer to his hungry mouth, he could not tell. 

Oliver unwrapped one of his arms and used the tip of his finger to trace her delicate lower lips. He could feel her inner muscles clenching, pleading for more. Her legs shook on his shoulder and he knew for sure she was getting close. He took one last taste, flicking his tongue over her clit, before pulling away and looking up at her. Nyssa sat up and glared down at him.

“Why did you stop?” She huffed, her breath coming in short and shallow puffs as she tried to calm her breathing.

“You said the act was not necessary for consummation.” He smirked up at her. She clenched her fists in the sheets to refrain from knocking that knowing smirk from his face. Her mind couldn’t process thoughts beyond what pleasure he had given her and the pleasure she wanted to return to her quivering center. So close to tumbling over the sweet abyss, and he stops. “Did you want me to keep going?” His infuriating smirk mocked her.

Nyssa refused to beg. If he did not continue, she would bring herself to orgasm without his help. Oliver waited patiently, using his finger to put just enough pressure on her clit for her to feel his presence, keeping her on the edge of pleasure, but not enough to push her over. Nyssa jerked her hips, testing how much pressure she could force him to apply. Oliver smiled and shook his head while removing his finger completely. She sighed in frustration.

“Continue.” She ground out, the word as bitter as sulfur in her mouth, but the wicked gleam in his eyes sparked a pleasuring clench of her muscles. Oliver lowered his mouth to her core and devoured her. His tongue pushed past her slick folds and into her dripping core. Oliver twirled it in her slick essence then slid his tongue back into his mouth, repeating the act over and over. Nyssa could hardly think passed the slurping and moaning filling the room. Pushing towards pleasure then retreating from the overwhelming ecstasy, her hips circled his waiting mouth like a never-ending wave cresting a beach. Nyssa ran her hands through Oliver’s golden hair then down his neck, shoulders, and back. She reveled in the barely contained power running through his rippling muscles. He almost moaned into her as her delicate nails scraped his skin. Oliver slowly watched Nyssa lose control; her head was thrown back in abandon as she rode his face and her back arched with each stroke of his tongue. He could feel her muscles trying desperately to grasp his probing tongue. She was close, but he did not want her to come like this. He pulled back and wiped her essence from his chin. She was about to protest, but he kissed her, dancing his tongue over hers so she could taste herself. He nudged her thighs around his hips and leaned into her until his lips caressed her ear.

“You will come with me inside you.” His dark voice sent shrills of pleasure up her spine and caused her lower muscles to clench in anticipation. Oliver lifted up on his knees and settled himself at her entrance. He felt her muscles tense then slacken as if she had resigned herself to her fate. He looked up briefly and saw a flash of uncertainty before she turned her head away from him. Bile rose in his gut, but he forced it down. He knew instantly what bothered her; he had felt the same when he thought of his future before he had been stranded on Lian Yu. He had seen the horror in her eyes when Ra’s ordered their engagement, and when Ra’s had told her the truth of her mother’s position. Oliver had assumed that Nyssa was upset about losing her legacy as Heir to the Demon, but in this instance he knew that she was afraid of losing the dream of freedom that she had clutched to: the dream that was the only consolation to a frightened child forever living under the threat of an immortal father she feared. For Oliver, he had feared losing his freedom by marrying Laurel and being forced into running his family’s business; Nyssa feared forever living under her father’s control. And now she feared she would live under his.

Oliver slipped his hand under her back and rolled over, bringing her on top of him. Nyssa straddled him with her hands resting on his broad chest, shock and confusion on her face, but she didn’t say a word. They looked into each other’s eyes.

“Zawjati washarika.” _My wife and partner_. His deep voice filled the void between them. Nyssa’s eyes watered. Through his training, Oliver had learned some Arabic, the common language spoken in the League since it was similar to her father’s native tongue, but she knew there would be no opportunity for him to learn such caring words. She wondered briefly if he had learned it for Felicity; jealously swirled in the pit of her stomach like a vicious viper waiting to bring harm to the nearest object, but she banished it deep. She had little right to feel such. Oliver’s hands settled on her waist, steadying her but not forcing her down. He would act as a guide, but she would be the one in control.

Nyssa took a deep breath and spread her legs a little wider. She reached beneath her and grabbed his hardened member, leaking with precious fluid. She twirled her thumb over the head and dragged his pre-cum down the shaft, moving her hand gently but firmly. Oliver took a deep breath of his own. Nyssa watched his face tense as she continued to stroke him; he kept a strong façade but she could tell he wanted more. She nestled him at her entrance and slowly sunk herself lower. Oliver fought the urge to thrust into her immediately; he could tell this was her first time with a man, and he didn’t want to hurt or scare her. Instead he guided her down gently, giving her time to accept each new inch of him. Nyssa felt pressure in her womb as she absorbed him; her breath came harder and shallower. She felt his hands tighten at her hips and she looked up to watch a bead of sweat roll off his forehead. They remained looking at each other as she slid further and further down his shaft, neither one even blinking. Once he was fully sheathed in her, Nyssa let go of the breath she hadn’t know she was holding.

Her breath came in shallow pants and she placed her hands on his chest to support her as she leaned forward a bit. Oliver’s hands tightened on her hips and his hips jerked involuntarily. Oliver had to throw his head back and bite his lip against the white hot pleasure threatening to make him lose control already; she was blissfully warm and tight. His muscles almost shook with the effort to restrain himself but he refused to move until she gave him some kind of signal. Nyssa tested her body by squeezing her lower muscles, drawing a groan from Oliver. She smiled just barely, and tested her grip again. Oliver’s eyes flew open and met hers.

“Do that again, and I will not be able to control myself.” He warned her, but the impact was lost by the pleasure she heard in his graveled voice. Nyssa licked her lips and bit them to hold in a little laugh. Oliver glared at her, knowing full well she was going to test him again. Nyssa raised herself slowly, tightening her muscles until only the head remained inside her. She then loosened her muscles as she slid down then tightened them once their hips met and he was fully lodged inside of her again. Nyssa swirled her hips, still getting used to the new sensation.

“Sweet mercy.” Oliver growled out. His jaw clenched tight and his eyes locked on hers. Nyssa fully smiled and raised off him again only to take him back into her. Taking that as a sign she was ready for more, Oliver used his grip on her hips to lift her up and direct her down. Their rhythm was slow at first, both learning how the other moved. Oliver began to direct her hips in a circular motion up and down and Nyssa followed his motion like an excellent student. Once they had established their motion, Nyssa began to speed up and Oliver moved his hands to squeeze her butt. She moaned at the delicious feeling, almost losing her rhythm, but Oliver steadied her as he continued thrusting. 

The room filled with sounds of their love-making, feeding their frenzy: wet skin slapping against each other, moans and grunts ripped from their throats, the bed frame shifting and creaking under their weight and movement. Oliver sat up, forcing Nyssa to lean back on her hands. He cradled her head and neck to support her with one hand, while the other continued its grip on her hips, their bodies barely losing the rhythm. Oliver’s eyes traced over every inch of her glistening skin, trapping the ripples of her muscles and the sweet jingle of her breasts in his memory forever. He captured one luscious nipple in his mouth and suckled like a starving babe. Nyssa cried out, letting the delicious feeling sweep through her body. Her body clenched with every movement, as every thrust saw her clit meeting his pelvis. She could feel a powerful orgasm racing upon her like a stampede of wild horses, searching for freedom. Oliver wrapped one arm around her body to bring her closer as the other slipped between them to add more pressure on her clit. She screamed, pulling Oliver closer. He released her breast from his mouth and looked up at her.

He committed this image to memory: her, eyes clenched shut and glorious hair waving behind her, her body rippling between tension and release, her beautiful lips parted as moans, groans, and screams ripped past them. He watched her ride him, free, uninhibited, careless; he would forever see her this way. He would not allow her passion to slip into the shadows with quiet reserve as she had been through the ceremony, dinner, and when he had entered her room. He would stroke her fury and passion as she had been when she came for Sara and when she hunted Sara’s killer; he would see her joyous as she was when she explored the city with Laurel. He would not see her cowering from him in fear. He promised her gods.

Nyssa clenched around him, sending her body into earth-shattering quakes. Her body drew him from his thoughts and into an orgasm that stole the breath from his lungs. Sheer white-hot fire ripped through his veins; his seed poured out of him faster than he could withdraw. He held her body down, locking her to him, and giving her all that her body demanded of him. She moaned and shook and squeezed while he continued to whirl his thumb around her clit and mouthed at the chord of muscle in her throat. Nyssa saw white; her body felt weightless. She could only drape herself over Oliver’s shoulder. He shifted his hand to her womb and said the customary prayer, asking the gods to bless his offering. Nyssa’s breaths came in soft pants, cooling the damp skin at his neck and sending shivers through his body.

“By the gods.” He exhaled, exhausted. Nyssa pushed herself up and shifted to look at him.

“No, by your wife.” Her words were neutral, but the faint twinkle in her eye and the slight lift of her lip told him that he had pleased her. He would not find a dagger at his neck tonight; that was all he could ask for from her.

“By my wife.” He lifted her off of him and set her gently on the bed. Nyssa held the silk cover to her body as she watched him get up from the bed and stride towards the door. She wondered if he would leave, duty done. She did not know if she wanted him in her bed now; there was no need for postcoital talk or cuddling. He could go on planning the demise of Star City with her father, while she devised a way to take back her birthright. She also had to figure out how she would get the necessary herbs to make a contraception without the old priestess finding out. Oliver went to her alter and blew out the candles, shrouding the room in darkness, then walked back to the bed and climbed under the covers.

“There is a guard outside, waiting for any suspicious activity.” His voice rang clear in the darkness.

“I would not kill you like a coward.” She scoffed, disgusted that he would suggest such a thing. “You will be fully aware when I watch the life drain from your eyes.” 

Oliver’s responding scoff sounded slightly amused. Nyssa climbed beneath the covers and wrapped them fully around her body. They lay in silence listening to the other’s soft breathing and the sounds of the night. After a few minutes, Oliver shifted on his side facing her. He propped himself on his forearm, leaning over her, and let his fingers skate slowly down her arm.

“At least we know we are compatible. Perhaps we will be so outside of the bedroom.” He waited for her to respond. 

“Perhaps.” She said a few breaths later. Oliver leaned down, brushed the drying hair away from her forehead, and kissed her temple gently. It was the first time his lips met her body without desire. He wrapped his arm around her waist and shifted so that she was cradled against him, his hands playing with strands of her raven hair. Oliver’s breathing deepened quickly, his body relaxed in the tell-tale sign of sleep, but sleep evaded Nyssa. Her mind wandered, flirting from thoughts of running and of staying, of challenging him for her freedom or for challenging him for control of the League. She knew there were those who would accept her claim, but there were many who would challenge her because Al-Sahim had survived her father’s sword. No matter how often her thoughts drifted towards the idea, Nyssa knew she could not run; Oliver would have to send assassins after her to uphold his reputation, and she highly doubted they would come after her with intentions any less than killing. In fact, it would be smarter for Oliver to kill her; he would not have any challenges to leadership, and he could find a concubine more willing, or even his darling Felicity. But most of all, she would not run because it was not her nature. She had always been one to face her battles; her fate would be no different. Mind made up, Nyssa listened to her husband’s breathing, and drifted to sleep.


End file.
